Home
by LauranTheBiscotti
Summary: John has found John's plans for his apparent suicide, and now plans to leave the country as well. Sad but VERY much Johnlock ! FINISHED


John watched as Sherlock disappeared inside 221b Baker Street, his long coat swirling out behind him.  
In his mind he played it out...Mrs Hudson telling him, the sound of Sherlock's feet as he bounds up the stairs, banging the door open calling for him...  
John swallowed hard and leaned forward to the driver "Heathrow please."

John settled down to his life in America quite easily, posing as a history teacher.  
Most of what he knew was thanks to Sherlock and his seemingly innate ramblings.  
It had been 9 months, 2 weeks and 1 day since he left 'home'.  
The last bell went and his students filed out. John sat back with a sigh and,removing his glasses ('They make you look more.." _"What Sherlock?"_ "Sharp") rubbed his eyes with the palms of his hands.  
"Mr. Doyle? Sir?"  
John dropped his hands into his lap "Ay ?Jason,right?"  
Jason Crowley.  
18.  
Sharp features,high cheekbones,proud chin.  
Blue eyes that changed in accordance to mood.  
Black hair,curly.  
Jewish background.  
Good student,quiet.  
John realized what he was doing, just like...  
John cleared his throat "Yes?" and started shoving books into his bag.  
"About the assignment.."  
"Due Friday." John didn't look up.  
"Sir I'm...I finished last night."  
John looked round to him. He resembled Sherlock so much it scared him ,and he did his best to avoid looking him dead-on but now he did.  
Jason's eyes swirled as the sun hit them and for a moment John couldn't John realized he hadn't said anything for a moment.

He cleared his throat rather loudly "Really? May I see?"  
Jason blushed and handed it out from around his back to John.  
John sat at the corner of the desk and flipped through it.  
"Hmmm seems good, correct grammar...punctuation is spot-..." John trailed off.  
The Bureau of Refugees, Freedmen and Abandoned Lands (or the Freedmen's Bureau) was organized to provide relief and assistance to the former slaves, including health services, educational services, and abandoned land services. Congress passed an act on March 3, 1865 to establish the Bureau of Refugees, Freedmen and Abandoned Lands. The program was administered by the Department of War and was first headed by General Oliver Otis Howard who was appointed to the position on May 13, 1865 by President Abraham Lincoln.  
...

The Civil Rights Bill and the Freedmen's Bureau Bill and the proposed constitutional amendments, with the amendment already adopted and recognized as the law of the land, do not reach the difficulty, and cannot, unless the whole structure of the government is changed from a government by States to something like a despotic central government, with power to control even the municipal regulations of States, and to make them conform to its own despotic will. While there remains such an idea as the right of each State to control its own local affairs,- an idea, by the way, more deeply rooted in the minds of men of all sections of the country than perhaps any one other political idea,-no general assertion of human rights can be of any practical value. To change the character of the government at this point is neither possible nor desirable...

John looked up at Jason "This is brilliant. YOU wrote this?" John couldn't help but gasp.  
Jason dragged a foot, embarrassed "Yeah;I wanted to be history teacher sir, and well..."  
"I'd say you're a shoe in. Where are you planning to attend?"  
Jason blinked at him "Attend?"  
"Oh,right sorry,college?"  
"I was hoping Cambridge."  
John grinned "Really? That's a great school-fantastic. If you'd like I'd be glad to write you a letter of recommendation."  
Jason blushed "Really? That's well it's great ; no other teachers would."  
"Well I don't see why not. You're clearly brilliant." John brandished the paper.  
"Yeahhh but I'm...I better go.."  
John handed him the paper and watched as he hurried out,pausing to glance back,frowning, as the door closed behind him.

Things went on normally, well as normal for John at least, for a week.  
John was in class,Jason's class incidentally, giving a lecture on Melvin Fuller. John typically walked the class,stretching his legs, during lectures but he had woken late this morning and was very drowsy.  
John closed his book "Any questions?" he lifted up to perch on the edge of the desk but missed by inches.  
He clattered to the floor on his bad flew everywhere.  
"DAMN MY LEG."  
The class tittered and made crude jokes and on one came to his aid,save Jason.  
Jason tucked one arm under his armpit and lifting him up.  
Their faces were inches apart. "Alright?"  
Jason's face sweaty from effort but he was more concerned in John's well-being.  
Someone from the back,Jared Cloud (more like Jared Clod..jock...varsity football...17...used his weight and height to bully underclassmen..)wolf-whistled.  
Jason blanched and John understood immediately. "It's all right. Go back and sit down Jason."  
Jason gathered up John's papers in a quick bundle and put them on the desk,neatly with a pat then sat back down.  
The bell went to John's relief. He was looking forward to having a word with Jason but he was already gone out of the classroom before he could catch his eye.  
Jason came to his office as John was packing up for the day. He hovered at the door for a moment, watching the older man's movements. Since the fall John's leg had started to give him gyp again and he was slower than usual shutting down for the hobbled to the board to erase today's problems and didn't see Jason til he knocked.  
"Professor Doyle,sir."  
John looked round "Oh,Jason didn't see you there; take a seat. Won't be a moment. By the way, it's Mister Doyle, or GOV"

"GOV Sir?"

"God of the Universe;whichever you'd prefer. "

John smiled a quick smile at Jason then turned back to the board,dragging a chair over.  
John leaned against the chair to reach the top of the board. "Did you need something?"  
"I was wondering if we could talk,you know,privately."  
John stopped and looked at Jason questioningly "Something wrong?"  
Jason blushed 'Yes...no..Oh I don't know."  
John dusted off his trousers and hands and sunk in his chair. "Why don't you start at the beginning?"  
"Well, it's...I'm gay,sir."  
"Ah." John rested his shoulders on the desk and steepled his fingers, then leaned back in his chair.  
"And you need me.."  
Jason flushed. "You mean you're not...OH GOD." He clambered out of his seat, face violet. "I am so sorry sir,big mistake...I thought...I mean, I see Miss Gable flirting with you and you don't bat an eye..." Jason stuttered but John waved the words away.  
"No worries. I'm not,well I don't know." John shrugged.  
"Is there...someone?"  
John looked at him,considering, then "Would you like to go for some coffee?"

John set their cups down and slid into the booth.  
'"Ahh much better."  
He added creamer and sugar (**Cream ? How vile** _Oh it's quite good Sherlock_ **So is human flesh but you don't see me consuming it daily** _How do you...no,no, I don't want to know_)  
A hand on his arm ..."Professor?"  
John shook his head 'Right, sorry." He set the sugar down "So erm, have you applied to Cambridge then?"  
Jason's face lit up "Yeah ! The day we talked,remember?"  
Jason went on and John watched him. Jason reminded him of Sherlock so down to the long,graceful fingers. John resisted a strong temptation to ask him if he played violin."But that's not why I am here." it was not a question but a statement.  
Jason went quiet and played with the stirrer.  
"Well,sir it's just...I am ..I'm...you know..."  
"Gay."  
"Yes that and everyone in school, they know and I can't go through a day without hearing that WORD...God..." Jason's fist thumped on the table.  
"It's alright; let it out."  
A few tears slipped out of Jason's cheek as he stared out the window.  
5 cars passed by, 3 minutes,before Jason spoke again. "How do you do it, handle the comments? "  
John took a sip of his coffee "It's hard, very hard.I denied it for ages, God, years."  
"And now?"  
"Now..I'm not really sure."  
"But you have someone,don't you?" Jason leant forward eagerly. "I see it in your eyes, in class. Not all the time but sometimes you slip out like you're dreaming and this look comes across your face, so peaceful and still."  
John's hand shook and he set his cup down with a rattle "What-I do?"  
"You did a minute ago ,when you were putting stuff into your coffee."  
John looked down into his cup. He hadn't mixed the creamer in all of the way and swirls of white mixed with black, like curls on the back of an ivory head...  
John grabbed a stirrer and furiously stirred the creamer coffee splattered on the table. John grabbed a handful of napkins and tossed them on the mess,which was spreading down the table and dripping over the edge.  
John mumbled a curse and scooted to the end of the bench.  
"Damn him and this coffee! " he shouted.  
The whole diner turned and looked at him and John glowered at them til they turned away again.  
"Erm,sir?God of the Universe?"  
John jumped "Sorry I just..never were you saying?"  
"Are you alright?" Jason stared at him.  
"Yes" he shook his head "No" he nodded. "Oh I don't know."  
John slid out of the booth and threw a few bills on the table. "This wasn't a good idea. And it's not you;it's me...not enough sleep ran out of sugar, you know," John shrugged, "the usual."  
Jason followed him out the door,cradling his cup in one hand "Can we try again? Please?"  
John pulled his keys out and clicked the door unlocked.  
"Yeah just...I am so sorry. I need to clear my head. We'll try again soon;I promise."  
That night John dreamed of dark hair and eyes that reflected the sun.

The last bell went and over the noise of the class gathering their belongings, John called " Oh and I've started a History Group, at the Diner, 5 o'clock ever Thursday if anyone is interested."  
It had been a week since the incident at the diner and John was trying to figure out a way to talk to Jason, one that wouldn't compromise both his job and Jason's life. (People will talk _**That's all they do**_)  
Jason was the only one who acknowledged him, a slight nod as he passed John's desk and that was it. But it was enough.

Jason was the only one to show up at the Diner Thursday.  
They slid into the booth-a different one, this time-and picked up the menus.  
"I'm glad it's only you. I didn't want people to think..well,you since I acted like a right git last time."  
Jason grinned at him "Yeah got a reputation. But hey it doesn't matter anymore. I got in !"  
John gaped "You did ? I knew you would! What's your plan,leave as soon as you graduate,or take it easy, work,maybe travel a bit?"  
Jason blushed "Actually, I was hoping you'd come along."  
"Wh-what ? Me?" John stuttered.  
"Yeah,I mean ,you're the one that got me in. And besides I was hoping you'd maybe...you know...see him."  
"Who-ohhh. No,no no no no I can't."  
"Why not ?Nasty breakup?"  
"No see the thing is...I'm dead."  
John told Jason everything, about Afghanistan, his leg, the first he met Sherlock, the ashtray,the way his smiled, everything. The story poured out of him like water but when he got to that day, that fateful jump, John's words came want had to excuse himself to the bathroom and dried his eyes.

His eyes hurt and he didn't want to talk anymore, but he owed Jason coffee at least.  
Jason could tell John was upset and pat his arm "It's OK if you want to stop.."  
John shook his head "No, no I have to tell someone. I've kept this in so long.I mean,he lied to me,LIED,told me he would stay for God's sake then I saw him jump! I saw the body ! Come to find out it was all a setup, some sort of 'Master Scheme' "John air-quoted,rolling his eyes.  
"Do you love him?"  
John looked into those eyes,those deep,deep eyes, just like Sherlock's.  
"I...don't know."

John put the book in his overhead bag and stretched his leg. Jason was still snoring alongside him. He nudged him gently "We're home."  
Jason snorted and sat up. "Christ what a long trip."  
He looked out the small airplane window "Is this it?"  
John laughed and clapped him on the shoulder "No, just a bit of fog."  
Jason stared at him.  
John chewed his lip suddenly self-conscious. "What?"  
"You laughed.I never heard you 's...nice."  
John blushed and busied himself with pulling their bags down. "Stop being daft and help me with these bags."  
It had been 1 year,11 months,3 weeks and 4 days since he was last in England; nearly 2 years. And now he was back;he was home.

They toured England together side by side.  
The first time Jason kissed him, was Stonehenge. Jason was posing, silly tourist stuff, and insisted John take a picture with him.  
Jason did not account for the mud,though and fell over, pulling John on top of him.  
The kiss was tender, a quick peck.  
The second kiss was under the stars of the Observeratory. They kissed under the stars, mouths wet and nervous.  
Jason was the first pull back.  
They laughed it off.  
The third kiss was in Manchester. They were roaring drunk in a club they had found whilst wandering Canal Street.  
Jason was dancing with him,grinding and having a laugh. He grabbed John and kissed him hard and wet.  
By the time they got back to the hotel, they had sobered up.  
John slept on the sofa.  
The fourth,fifth and six kisses were all in the rain.  
It had been raining a week and they were stranded somewhere in Derbyshire, a little village called Taddington.  
They spent most of the days playing cards and reading but on the third day Jason suggested poker.  
John grinned "How about we make it interesting?"  
John won 249 hands of strip poker before they ended up in bed together.

John was in the best spirits he had been in a long time-probably ever- and Sherlock had completely gone from his mind.  
Maybe he was supposed to leave, and meet Jason. Young, safe,Jason.  
John rolled over in bed and propped up on one elbow.  
Jason muttered in his sleep and reached out for him.  
John dropped a kiss on his forehead "I'm not going anywhere."  
It had been 4 months, 1 week,6 days and 19 hours since John thought of Sherlock,even fleetingly.

Sherlock paced the floor. He had neither ate in 4 days nor slept in 5.  
"Murder...door unlocked...no fabrics...no hair..."  
He grabbed a book and threw it across the room.  
"No bloody clue."  
Mrs Hudson downstairs turned the volume on her TV up a little louder.

John was teaching late today so Jason pulled down the last few boxes to unpack.  
They were mostly house goods: tape,books,pen-holders and the ilk, but the last box had a smaller box in it,labeled simply SH.  
Jason texted John "When u will b home?-JC"  
"8ish. No need 4 supper;eating here. -God of the Universe"  
Jason set his phone down and dug out a key to cut the tape off the smaller box.  
There were pictures,John laughing into the camera, John showing off an ashtray...and then he came to the pictures of Sherlock,about a hundred of them neatly preserved in slip covers,all dated and labeled in John's flowing hand.  
Most were Sherlock pouting  
"Sherlock mad we're out of tea. "  
"Forced to remove head from freezer."  
Then there was Sherlock in a sheet, Sherlock in a hat looking VERY unhappy,etc.  
The pictures of Sherlock laughing were the ones that Jason could tell John'd treasured most; the coverslips where bent from constant removal of the pictures.  
Jason set the notes back in the box and got a marker and tape.  
He wrote on the box:  
Arthur Doyle, C/OThe Old Schools, Trinity Ln, Cambridge CB2 1TN  
and sealed it.

John stared out of the window. He couldn't understand why Jason would leave like that ; no note even.  
"Probably found someone younger." John scoffed.  
There was a tap at the door and the post pusher came in "Package for you."  
John usually chatted with her but today he didn't have it in him. He swiveled his chair to face away from her and gazed out the window. "Leave it."  
John watched the rain for a long time.  
And cried.

John forgot about the package until he was packing his office up. He had signed up for a job,small clinical job in Vancouver but it was better than here. Anywhere was better than here;too many memories.  
He nearly missed the box if he hadn't tripped over it.  
John set it on the desk and ripped the tape.  
Once he saw the small box he knew immediately.  
It had been 3 years,1 Month,1 Week and 2 days since he saw Sherlock.  
It was enough.  
He was going home.

The London traffic was abysmal, 221B Baker Street was a mere 2 blocks away and here he was, stuck in the same place for 45 minutes.  
"Bugger this." he threw some money at the cabbie and crawled out the cab.  
He was going home.

John stopped outside the door. He could hardly breathe; not from physical exhaustion but from knowing..he was going to see Sherlock again.  
He took a deep breath and opened the door.  
The upstairs looked about the same. More skulls and burnt patches in the carpet but;nevertheless, still familiar.  
The bathroom door opened and a figure in pyjama bottoms and a robe emerged and crossed the room.  
John's breath caught in his throat.  
Sherlock.  
It was him.  
John tried to speak but couldn't.  
Sherlock didn't pay him any mind and plopped down in front of the microscope. He sat there,occasionally taking notes before a quarter of an hour before John couldn't take it anymore...the quiet...the lonliness, everything.  
"Sherlock." he breathed.  
Sherlock jerked and he slowly straightened.  
He sat there,not moving, for a minute. Neither man made a sound.  
John could see Sherlock moving his jaw but no noise came out.  
John licked his lips "Sherlock" he whispered.  
Sherlock's head turned and John could see his face was wet...tears.  
Sherlock was crying.  
Sherlock sniffed and turned back to the microscope.  
And that was all.  
John couldn't chest was tight and everything before him swam in gray.  
He reached out an arm ,using the wall to keep from falling over.  
He couldn't believe it.  
After all this time.  
3 years.  
1 Month  
1 Week  
and 2 days  
and that was it?  
Not even a hello.  
John would prefer Sherlock shout-throw something at him, maybe even shoot him (maybe) ...anything was better than this silence.  
John stood there rooted in place.  
He wanted Sherlock for so long,so long and he couldn't believe it was over.  
Just like that.  
"What a fool," John thought to himself "There had to be something there in order for it to have an end to it."  
He lowered his head..and cried.

After a while the tears stopped and he just stood there,watching.

Sherlock moved around the room,mainly to pace, but he always shied away from John like a frightened child.

John was observed in watching in,taking in every inch of him, so he'll never forget him didn't even notise Mrs. Hudson's presence til she spoke.

"Sherlock I've brought you a nice me hours but say you'll eat,please?"  
She set it on the table and straightened some papers, then opened a curtain.

"Leave it CLOSED."

Mrs Hudson stared at Sherlock, horrified, but obeyed.

Mrs. Hudson's activities stirred up dust coating the room,causing John to sneeze.

The room went quiet. Mrs Hudson turned slowly and,seeing John,screamed. "John!"

Sherlock whipped around in his chair "You see him too?"  
His expression was incredible: sadness, fear and happiness all at once. His eyes were big but still puffy from apparent crying.  
He stood up slowly,long legs unfolding beneath him.  
"John?"

He made for his friend...he is only,one friend but Mrs Hudson was faster; she grabbed him into a crushing hug.  
"Bloody Hell..breathe...can't breathe..." John made hand signals over her head to Sherlock who pulled her off of him.  
Sherlock did not take his eyes off John's. "Make some tea will you please Mrs Hudson, and leave us?"  
Mrs Hudson dabbed her eyes with the corner of her apron. "Not your housemaid but just this once." and she went off,her body racking in great,loud sobs.  
Sherlock critically looked John over.  
He saw everything, from the roots of his hair,starting to gray, to the lines of his thumbs. He quirked an eyebrow. "You were... gone."  
"Yes I...wanted to let you know, how it felt."  
"Felt?"  
John closed the space between them. "To be alone, and utterly alone."  
Sherlock looked up and away but John saw the tears. Sherlock cleared his throat,his voice thick "Why? Why would you do that?" He rounded on John "WHY would you do that to me?"  
He grabbed John by his lapels and shook them but John pushed his hands away "Because you did it to left ME. Don't you remember? But I found out,ah, stupid little John Watson found out, found the sketches. Not so useless anymore,eh? I couldn't believe it at first." John paced the floor. "I was angry,no,beyond angry, I was would HE do it to ME, after all this time, the trust,why ME? But then I realized, oh yeah."  
John turned on a heel "You're a cold bastard 's why."  
John went back to pacing "I was so angry I -I couldn't think straight. I had a few drinks,well, 3 bottles of whiskey actually and I had this dream, I was gone, and not you, and you had to hear about me EVERY single day. The next day I got up, took about half a bottle of aspirin and rang up my favorite detective."  
Sherlock stepped towards him "You DIDN'T."  
John nodded. "Lestrade. He helped me,set this all up, got me passports and everything. I figured, if the great Sherlock Holmes can disappear,why can't I? And I did. And you-you didn't even know it."  
Sherlock shook his head "No,I was too-it was a shock."  
"Damn right. You come home find your best mate's dead. Good detail wasn't it,gunfire, multiple injuries, blood all over the building? Better than seeing someone you know and loved nearly 4 years say,jump off a building, yes?"  
Sherlock shook. "I can't believe you did this."  
John shook his head. "It wasn't me;it was you. And now, here we are, 2 perfect strangers."  
A car honked outside "Ah yes that's my taxi. Time to go away, got a new job. Vancouver. They speak French there, did you know?Fascinating people. "  
John adjusted his hat and nodded at Sherlock "Good-bye."  
He was halfway down the stairs when he heard the slap of bare feet behind him and a hand lay heavily on his shoulder.  
Sherlock leaned against the wall,panting. "You said...loved."  
"Yes,loved: -ed, past tense."  
Sherlock tugged on John's collar. "John,I-"  
John shrugged him off and continued down the stairs. "It's too late.I wasted my time on you,4 damned years of my life,maybe but it's too are still living in the then while us, the stupid ones, are smart enough to forget it all. We are living in the now."  
John barely registered the cry of "Damn it all." before he was roughly shoved back onto the wall.  
Sherlock had him by the coat,nose to nose.  
Sherlock ran his eyes over his face,noting every new freckle,every new line.  
John desperately tried to think of something clever to say but his brain had gone all foggy.  
Sherlock's eyes finally settled on John's and it was like it was 4 years ago again, and they were best mates and associates, a detective and his 'confirmed bachelor' .  
Then Sherlock kissed him.  
John froze, his hands limp at his sides.  
He was expecting Sherlock to be angry, maybe throw him out of a window (And exactly how many times did he fall out of a window? Oh, it's all a bit of a blur, detective inspector)  
But not this.  
John's heart pounded in his ears and he began to panic.  
He came home for what... reconciliation? And that is exactly what happened.  
John stopped arguing with himself and opened his lips,letting John in.  
Sherlock loosened his grip and his eyes closed as John,hesitating at first, put his arms around his neck. Sherlock kissed John back hungrily.  
John was home.

It was 1 month,3 weeks, 4 days, 12 hours and 19 minutes since John had come home.  
And he was never leaving again.


End file.
